


Grounding

by Nekosume



Series: Healing Hands [2]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Healer Zuko (Avatar), Zuko is an Awkward Turtleduck
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-16
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:01:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25928560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nekosume/pseuds/Nekosume
Summary: Maybe fire ferrets aren't the most effective conversation practice partners. His suave ways with the rodents don't seem to translate to humans.They're way cuter though.
Series: Healing Hands [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1849273
Comments: 79
Kudos: 331





	1. Chapter 1

There is a man in Zuko's forest and he is _noisy_.

He leads a beleaguered ostrich horse which pulls a too heavy, very rickety cart. And Zuko is displeased. It is colder out now, and fog curls from the nearby rivers dampening the ground. The wagon's wheels pull at sticky mud and the poor girl (and Zuko knows its a girl, look at those feathers!) looks tired and thirsty.

Zuko darts through the trees, and peers down at the old man. He wears green and white, his sleeves tied high like the fishermen from the east of the river.

The man doesn't appear to be very happy. Zuko knows he hasn't spoken to a lot of people in the last... several months, but those have to be new curse words.

He drops to the forest floor to get a closer look. The man is leaning against the wagon and taking slow steps and Zuko quickly sees why through the wheel's slats.

Legs aren't supposed to bend that way.

Zuko tilts his head to the wind, and tucks away his old knife. It is weathered and worn, and Zuko doubts that its maker expected it to be used for hunting.

Or for stalking old injured men, but, whatever. Zuko does as he has to now.

He considers his options. Less people have been traveling through (his) forest now that the rain has started. The big caravans that cause Zuko's heart to flutter, haven't been through in weeks. And this worries Zuko. A little. It is always warm in the Fire Nation. If not scorching, then balmy days with soft winds take up much of the year. This is not so for the Earth Kingdom. And even with the warm clothes that the servants packed him, Zuko does not know what winter will bring.

With this in mind he jumps from the tree.

The man stumbles back, puts pressure where he shouldn't on his leg, and falls. “Oma and Shu please don't!”

Zuko holds up his hands and shakes his head, “I'm sorry. I guess I scared you. Didn't mean to.” Zuko holds his hand out. “Let me-”

“Wait. You're just a brat!”

“Brat?! I'm almost fourteen!” Zuko considers whipping his hand back, but remembers being told _multiple_ times that he can't pick and choose who he helps.

The man grabs the wheel of the cart to stand, slaps away Zuko's hand, and jabs a large jointed finger at him, “That's what brats say.”

Zuko pouts. “I'm not a brat.” 

The man's face disagrees.

Zuko has long become familiar with the concept of 'can't win them all' although he still isn't comfortable with it. At least he is good with animals. So he pulls a small satchel of herbs from his robe's pocket and inches towards the ostrich horse. He internally calls her Beaky. She has a lovely beak.

“Git 'way from my ostrich horse.” The man waves his hand in Zuko's face, and Zuko resists the urge to bite at his fingers. They probably taste bad. “And what are ye then, if not a brat? Lil feral thing in the forest. You ain't spirit are you?”

“No, and if I were I would take your ostrich horse. You shouldn't be rude to spirits. And I'm a. I'm Zu- ...Li.”

“What kinda name is Zu Li?”

“I mean Li. I didn't say Zuk- uh, Zu... Li.” Zuko trails off awkwardly, “What's a Zu Li?”

“Righ'.” The man crosses his arms. “Listen 'ere brat-”

“Not a brat.”

“I've already be'n held up by the bandits in these forests, an' I'm late to Yu Dao. So 'ow 'bout you git?”

Zuko looks to Beaky and her heavy load, then to the grumpy old man. “I can heal your leg.”

“Yea? And why should I believe ya brat?”

Zuko pulls out some bandages and goes to a nearby tree, finds a straight and sturdy stick and shrugs. “I've survived so far.”

And the old man looks at Zuko, his wild hair with pine needles sticking out, his dirty feet and shredded clothes, the scar that curves from his eye to ear vivid and red. The old man also sees Zuko's immaculate nails and clean hands. Thinks to himself that those hands look a bit like Ma Leon's hands: the sole healer in Harbor town.

“I don't have anything to give yeh.”

Zuko shrugs and a small hopeful smile pulls at his mouth. The man thinks with discomfort that the scar makes it more of a grimace. “You can let me pet your ostrich horse?”

“That old thing?” He settles down to the side of the road and puts his leg out front. In for a pebble, in for a stone. “Yer funeral.”

Zuko is mercilessly efficient when he grabs the man's ankle with one hand, and the leg just below the knee with the other. With a sharp twist and wrench (And a howl every bandit in the area definitely heard) the leg looks semi-normal.

The man, who Zuko learns with some wheedling, is called Ku, is surprised by how gentle Zuko's hands are afterwards. Zuko gives him something brown and dry to chew and the pain ebbs. He then zips over to his steed, Orchid. She takes to him in an irritating show of betrayal.

“Where're your parents, brat?”

Zuko pauses his grooming of the old girl and scrunches his face into one Ku is intimately familiar with. It's the face that all his grand kids make when they're about to lie on who took the last plum cake or forgot to tie up the sails.

“At. Home?”

“Yeh, and where's that?”

“....The forest.”

Ku sighs and feels like this must be a common experience for anyone who meets the kid. But he'll let him hold his tongue. Ku knows the folk at Harbor Town like to call him a grump, among other flattering epithets, but he knows when not to dig deep. A kid with a scar like that probably doesn't have much. Though its surprising he hasn't learned to lie.

“Sure. Jus' like yer name is Li.”

The kid hisses like a pygmy puma and exclaims, “I-It is! Why would my name be anything else besides...” His eyes go wide for a brief second, almost as if he forgot his absolutely real name, “Li. Li!”

Ku shakes his head and props himself up on the wagon. He eyes Orchid, with her head beak deep in a bag the boy is holding. Looks to be dried nuts and berries, and she's gonna get fat and lazy that way.

He reaches into his bag and thinks he'll make a decent profit at the Yu Dao markets. The folks know by now that fishing will get rough once Winter rolls around. The seas of Harbor Town are notorious for their rough storms.

He takes out the old tarp, used to cover the fish barrels, and some old bent hooks: bundles them with some twine, and pegs Zuko in the face.

The kid puffs up and spits all teeth like a crocacat and Ku snorts. Kid can't see great from his left, eh? Figures.

“If'n my leg heals wonky I'll be back, hear me brat?”

“I'm not a brat. And it won't. I'm good at this.” He purses his lips, “Just, try and keep weight off it. I think you broke the smaller bone, but. Just in case.”

“Sure.” Ku says then mumbles, “Whatever that means” and grabs the reigns to Orchid and pulls her away, the traitor. Ku believes that the kid is good at healing. And that can only mean a few things round the colonies, and none of them are good. “I'll be back through in'a few weeks. Nex' time don' drop from the trees like a crazy person. Yer lucky I'm a fisherman.”

Zuko doesn't quite know what that means, but he feels as if it's an insult. He waves back halfheartedly.

The old man creeps down the muddy road and Zuko sticks out his tongue, just a little. Why do all old men hate him? Is it his face? No. his face is... not the constant here. Zuko shivers and holds the tarp and hooks close to him, even though they smell, and heads back into his forest. He should head home.

It's a long walk, and the sun dips and shines through the trunks of the forest by the time he's back. There's a mess of branches propped against a large willow tree forming a tight triangle, and a river close enough to spit water on the bank.

Zuko's lived here for nearly six months, since Lieutenant Jee laid him out at the mouth of the river and pushed a heavy backpack into his delirious arms. He had given a long speech that had the word “survive” a lot in it, but Zuko wasn't alive enough to hear it.

Zuko unrolls the tarp and flops it on the side of his wooden tent, it fits well enough. The willow tree keeps the rain out fairly well, but the fog hangs heavy in the air and is already creeping into his little hideout.

Zuko curls up into his hut and thinks back to Ku. It's the first person he's talked to since Jee. He isn't sure the man liked him very much.

Maybe fire ferrets aren't the most effective conversation practice partners. His suave ways with the rodents don't seem to translate to humans.

They're way cuter though.

–

Zuko spends his time practicing his swords by the river. The grass is slick with water and his feet slide over sand and rocks as he twists his feet. It is quiet in his clearing except for the warble of birds and scratch of claws through the underbrush. His swings are near silent in comparison.

Yesterday he did cold katas, unable to draw on his fire without his vision tunneling and breath flickering. His inner flame is there, cooling embers, but not out. And the katas feel right, even if nothing, not even smoke, happens.

The day before he threw his knife at the side of the willow tree. The bark is ravaged with slashes and they're starting to look like tallies, counting the moments he feels out of his skin bored and alone.

The day before was hunting and feeling less and less sick as hunger pushed him past “too cute” to “going to die otherwise”. Although he now primarily eats reptiles for reasons wholly unrelated to cuteness.

Azula would be disappointed.

He doesn't know how much he cares about that anymore.

Each day goes like this and has gone like this since he was well enough to move.

Because if Zuko stops moving, or his eyes re-read that same sentence in his herb book, “Bacui berries are known to cure the poison of the white jade plant, however one must be ever aware of its close look alike the Maka'ole berry.”, his mind travels back to his life in the palace and the delicate writing of Kiki's note.

He misses her.

Misses waking up to tea with sugar in a red cup. Uncle hated it, but tea without sugar is just hot leaf juice.

He misses bickering with Tama. He never seemed to have the right answer, at least not on the first try. But he had never heard Tama's prim accent tinged with anger. Never felt afraid.

He misses the little kids that teased him for his green stained fingers.

Zuko misses talking to people in general.

And Zuko has a newfound appreciation for his old mattress, and the roof, and it never gets hot enough here.

But he can't have any of that anymore.

Today, Zuko practices fishing. He has some strong thread, courtesy of Tama, though he shouldn't use too much, that he ties around the end of one of the least bent fishing hooks. He baits it with a worm beetle and tosses it in the river.

He catches nothing that day.

Or the next.

Or the next.

Day seven though, he catches a fish the length of his forefinger.

It wiggles and whips about on the hook and oh god it's slimy. Why is it slimy? This is so much worse than the spider snake because at least it had legs and was kind of warm and agni nothing should be this cold and mucous covered.

But it tastes good. Despite the bones.

So many tiny bones.

And Zuko gets the best sleep he has since the night before that war council.

It's cold, and still kind of damp.

But Zuko feels a little warmer in his wooden triangle, now with tarp addition, and he feels a little fuller with an ounce of fish.

His inner flame flickers. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The prologue after the prologue  
> The what would happen if Uncle Iroh didn't raise Zuko, but the gaggle of weirdos he meets on the road?!


	2. Chapter 2

One hundred years ago the spiritual side of fire bending was taught to every bender of the Fire Nation.

Students, eyes gritty with sleep as the sun peeks over the horizon, would listen to their masters espouse the central dogma of fire bending: one's drive and motivation, their inner fire.

This drive, they would say breathing deep and stoking their own flame, provides every bender with a life source. For without motivation, what is the point of living?

The inner flame, is also what made the nation strong.

The strength of one's inner fire is directly correlated with a bender's strength. It is why the young and old, male and female, trained and untrained, can be equal in their bending. For although correct forms and training hones and directs one's inner fire, like a narrow river directs the water's flow, one cannot harness strength that isn't there.

The masters would often demonstrate, expressing what drives them. What fed their inner flame and how that powered their fire.

Fire bending was stronger, back then.

When each bender was in touch with their spiritual side, feats of fire bending existed that have not been seen since. For one fights harder and breathes hotter, when there is something that matters on the line.

One hundred years later, as the prince of the Fire Nation goes through cold katas, angry and confused as to why he cannot draw upon his fire, few if any of the young fire benders know much about their inner fire. They can feel it, but they do not understand.

Students, benders and non benders alike, sit in classrooms, bleary eyed and recite the Fire Nation oath. They learn strategy, politics, and some history. Those that are talented are taught to fight, those that are not are taught to march and intimidate.

The young, born to nobles, are sent to prodigious schools and are expected to flourish.

And often they do.

For even without being taught the meaning of the heat in their chests, their parents and their country have put a drive in them, decided at birth.

But no one learns in the heat of mid Summer, bare feet on hot rock, what their inner fire is.

Like the dragons, the original fire benders, Fire Lord Sozin snuffed this out.

\--

It is a week and a half later when Ku comes back through Zuko's forest, this time in a larger group with a better cart. Zuko is glad to see this, these roads aren't well maintained: see mud and robbers, but the noise is bothersome. The chatter of people brings up the memories of a roaring crowd, which leads to memories of father and fire and- and- and-.

And everyone has to go to Yu Dao these days because it is the largest dwelling in the area, blooming into a city of its own right. Harbor town is well off enough as a port, but they don't have enough land to farm and survive the Winter. That, and any luxury goods come from Yu Dao as they entertain some of the lower nobles of the Fire Nation.

That does not mean either are untouched by the war.

So Zuko is begrudgingly glad that Ku is now traveling in a group, although if asked, he will swear it is for Beaky's safety. Orchid is a sub par name and she deserves better. There is nothing flowery about her, but she has a majestic beak.

Ku notices him first, eyes trained on the canopy.

“Ey. Brat”

Zuko drops from the branches and shuffles his feet as the group of ostrich horses pull to a stop. Most of the group which trudged alongside the cart startle at his entrance, but slowly wander off to their own devices.

“Still not a brat.”

“Then why'd ya respond to it, eh?”

Zuko grumbles and pouts before a smooth voice cuts off Ku's chuckling.

“Do not tease the boy, Ku”

A woman with dark black hair pinned with gold and red, and hazel eyes peeks at him behind a fan. She wears clothes of soft brown and a red silk sash. Kohl lines her eyes.

“Why not, Nao? Ye' call a boulder a boulder and a brat a brat.”

She chuckles, and fine boned fingers snap her fan shut. “You never did have an appreciation for the finer things.”

“He ain't a Sparrowkeet to admire, Nao.”

Nao hums and slides to the other side of the cart. She places the end of the fan on Zuko's right shoulder and purrs, “I will be the judge of that. Who are you, little one?”

Zuko stutters, hardly able to remember his name here and now. He had even practiced with the meadow voles too!

“Spare 'im yer claws ya witch.” Ku pulls Zuko's left side and Zuko is proud he only flinches a little. Ku ignores this. “'Is name is Li.”

“Li?” Nao's eyes rake from Zuko's hair, to eyes to mouth. “Really?” She quirks a brow.

“Yep.”

“Well, there are a million Li's.” She giggles, and watches Zuko inch away from her, arm looping around the ugly ostrich horse's neck. “You know each other then, Ku? I did not take you as the sort to mingle with forest children.”

“I dun.”

“Yes. Clearly so.”

“He's the kid 'oo fixed my leg.”

Nao's eyes sharpen to something predatory, gold, and they pin Zuko in the middle of pulling a new bag of feed from his pocket. “Did you now?”

“ey now, I'm not takin ya to Harbor Town to kidnap kids.”

“It is not kidnapping if he is willing.” She huffs as Zuko curls in on himself. She imagines a little owl cat baring its teeth and fluffing its feathers. So adorable. “Calm down, _Li_. I am not as horrible as your errant patient makes me out to be. I am a, collector, of sorts.”

Zuko still inches back a few obvious inches behind Beaky before asking, “Collector?”

“Yes, of knowledge and interesting things.” She waves her fan in a wide circle, “people.” She laughs and turns to rummage through a black sack besides her, half buried beneath a pile of other luggage and crates. “Here.”

She tosses a heavy book titled _Earth Kingdom Healing: A Compendium_ at him.

Zuko eyes the cover and flips through the pages. “What's a compendium?”

Nao's smile falls a little. “A collection of knowledge, little bird.” Zuko's face morphs into something disgusted at that name, but Nao presses on. “It is gold, kitty cat. Information, lots of it.”

Zuko still doesn't appreciate how Ku and now this woman refuse to call him by his perfectly acceptable fake name. But he holds the book and thinks of all his time talking to the fire ferrets, and the meadow voles, and the fish. One herb book isn't enough entertainment. Two books though, is promising.

“Keep it. I like the look in your eyes. Curiosity suits you, and we need more healers in this world.”

“Only thing ye and I agree on, Nao.” Ku grumbles.

She rolls her eyes, “In payment though.” She slides her hand forward, brushing the edges of Zuko's hair. She twirls one long lock about a finger and Zuko gulps.

“Stay away from Taku.”

“What?”

“The ruins.”

“Um. Okay.... Why?”

“There is an utterly insane woman there.”

“Who?”

Nao leans forward and snaps her fan open then smacks it into her palm. “The _healer_ in Taku. Although some call her an herbalist, even that she hardly lives up to.”

“I'm a healer.” Zuko thinks of Tama, “Healers are, good. They can be kind of grumpy but they mean well. I think. I mean-”

“Yer a brat who can bandage a leg, ain't a healer yet.”

Nao cuts in, “That charlatan is not a real healer. But you, little one, could be. Although, you seem to have a quite particular concept of what a healer is.”

Zuko shrugs and wonders about the ruins of Taku, but in the end agrees to steer clear of the crumbling city.

She smiles.

“Here is one last token.” She reaches to her sash and unpins the clasp there. The fabric stays by the nature of the knot at her back. “As a sign that I found you first.” She grabs his hand and deposits the clasp. It is round, made of gold or perhaps metal plated with gold, with a black band around the bottom.

“I think Ku found me first.”

“I am going to ignore that.”

She gestures to his head, “Wear it. Good Fire Nation children wear their hair up.”

“I'm not Fire Nation!” Zuko squeaks.

“There are a million Li's in the Fire Nation and Earth Kingdom, little tiger monkey. It does not have to mean anything if you choose to observe one style or another.”

Zuko pauses and his hands lilt towards his left eye.

Nao huffs, “Besides, child, you are near the colonies. Do you think a misplaced fire bred child will be out of place? No. Wear your hair up. You are mine now.” The smile that crosses her face is one Zuko is sure Azula would covet, “And those who are mine, fire lily, present themselves with pride. I do not pick up just any stray.”

With that, Nao turns over her shoulder and taps on the side of the cart apparently finished with arguing with Zuko. She prods Ku in the shoulder with her fan.

“We best be off, I have taken enough of your time, owl cat.” She settles back in the cart and sprawls like the nobles in the palanquins of Caldera. “Keep the book and read. I come back through this road every season. I think you will be a fun one to watch.”

Ku drags _Orchid_ away from Zuko. He shoves a fresh treat in her face and begins on a lecture about responding to names that are not Orchid, and begins to shout for the rest of their traveling crew to join back up.

Few if any of them pay attention to Zuko as they walk past.

He slips back into his forest fingers smoothing over familiarly gold metal.

–

That week, Zuko spends his time reading one chapter a night from his new book. It is a large book, but he does not think it will last to when Nao will come back down his road.

He learns about clay, a red colored dirt, which Zuko thinks may be packed into the beds of his river, and how it is used to help in detoxifying certain conditions. And how certain stones are thought to have healing properties, particularly those found in areas of concentrated spiritual energy.

Zuko pins the clasp Nao gave him on the tallest stick that makes up his tent.

He doesn't think he deserves to wear it yet, but, it is very pretty.

He doesn't have the heart to throw it away.

–

Slowly, Zuko's flame grows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters. YAY


	3. Chapter 3

Zuko has never met a mercenary.

In the hold of the palace he has heard of them, knows the stories of the rough shod men and women who hunt down bounties. He knows that they often travel alone, for a group provides more backs for stabbing.

But Zuko is more familiar with assassins. Bounties are not a concern in the palace.

This is why, Zuko will later contend, he did not recognize that the silent man wriggling between two burly dirty men, was in fact a middle level bounty.

“He was alive! I thought bounties were all dead, you know, _dead or alive._ That's what mine said. Alive is harder, who would keep them alive?!”

And instead, Zuko thought they were a weird group of friends.

This will later elicit many questions on what Zuko thought friendship was.

“They threatened him a lot.” He throws his hands out in front of him, “Friendship!”

And a lot of laughter.

Too much laughter.

Like with Ku, Zuko drops from the trees he was observing the trio from when he noticed that the middle friend is bleeding.

He has to dodge a scimitar blade to the face.

“Rude!” Zuko rolls back into the trees.

“You trying to steal our mark?” The man shouts, gesturing his sword.

“What kind of name is Mark?” Zuko shouts.

“What?” Scimitar man raises a hand and pulls back his friend.

Zuko peeks out from behind a tree. “What?”

“You think. You think he's?” He elbows the man beside him, over the middle person's head, “You hear that Huzo?”

He slings an arm around the man between them, who doesn't appreciate the contact.“Yeah, Tung Lo, seems this kid is worried about our pal Mark.”

Zuko nods, “He seems.” He cuts his hand through the air towards the man's chest, “bleedy.”

Huzo, who has two thin blunt objects strapped to his wrists nods vigorously, “Yeah we got a lil' excited to see our buddy... Mark.”

“With. Swords?”

“Yes.”

Zuko pauses a moment before he nods, “Okay. I can see that.” He remembers his sister and how she greeted Mai and Ty Lee.

“Not weird at all kid.”

Mark continues to wriggle between them, surprisingly quiet.

“Sooo. I can uh, stop that.” Zuko watches Mark violently shrug his shoulders and thinks that can't be good for his blood loss. “You know. The bleeding.”

Huzo and Tung Lo glance at each other and grin. “Yeah buddy, that'd be great.”

They both link arms with Mark and lift him into the air, “So he can save his energy”, they chime, and Zuko leads them to his little camp.

–

He learns, as they set Mark on the grass by the river, that Tung Lo and Huzo are half brothers. Huzo is younger by two years and was named during a fire nation name fad. Tung Lo learned the scimitar from his pirate father.

Mark is an unrelated long lost friend who doesn't speak, “Or Mark knows what will happen”. And that the three are mercenaries returning to Shu Mura to pick up a new job

Zuko also learns that Mark is a bad patient who wiggles during suturing.

“Hold still, Mark.” Zuko murmurs. No matter how steady a hand he has, it doesn't matter if Mark keeps shimmying. He even gave him willow bark first.

“Yeah.” Tung Lo growls, “Wouldn't want you to be in any pain on the trip to Shu Mura, now would we?”

Huzo somehow frowns jovially, “Yeah, you're being rude to our new friend Li.”

Zuko blows a long steadying breath through his nose and makes a tidy square knot at the end of the gash. It won't be a pretty scar, but it will hold. He pulls the small jar of ointment Tama gave him from his triangle house and applies a glob to the wound and packs it with gauze before bandaging.

“He should make the trip to Shu Mura alright. But he needs to avoid still water and keep the wound clean.”

Huzo nods, “Thanks pal, it would be a real waste of our time if our friend here didn't make it.”

“Best pals we are!” Tung Lo chirps. He slams a hand to the back of Mark who doubles over.

“Hey! You'll pop his stitches.”

“Sorry, sorry.” Tung Lo looks about Zuko's little camp. “So... What's a kid like you doing out here?”

Zuko sits on his heels and begins putting the needle in a pot to boil later. “I'm fourteen.”

Huzo leans over Mark's shoulder, “Last I checked fourteen still makes ya a kid.”

Zuko ignores him and sits by the river bank waiting for the men to leave.

“No parents?” Huzo makes pointed eye contact with Mark, gestures to his own eyes then Mark's, then sidles over to Zuko.

Tung Lo skips over and plops down on Zuko's other side. “Us either!”

“Village couldn't feed two orphans. So-”

“The mercenary life called to us!” He pulls his sword from his sheath and looks at the metal fondly.

Huzo splays his hands before him and says, “So here we are!” He looks to Zuko and smiles, “Didn't want to talk about ma or pop either. At first.”

“But we had each other, so it's okay! And Mark! Our good friend Mark who better stay in this Oma and Shu clearing or else!”

Zuko turns around and sees Mark quietly skirting around his willow tree before freezing and inching back towards the two brothers.

“Why are you guys still talking to me?”

Tung Lo smiles widely, “The quiet ones are the most fun.”

“What?”

Huzo leans across Zuko and slaps a hand into the side of Tung Lo's face. “He likes making friends.” Huzo looks to Zuko's hands, “And any kid who sets up a healing hut in the forest has to be a fun friend.”

“Friend?” Zuko chews on his lip.

“Yeah.” Tung Lo says around Huzo's hand, “Our old lady taught us not to judge people by appearances! So you may look like a freak of nature weird forest kid, but that must mean inside you're a normal civilized friend.”

“Uh.”

Huzo nods sagely and lets up on Tung Lo's face, “She looks pretty and sweet, but stabs you in the throat.”

“Or throws you through a window.”

“So you're our friend now.”

Zuko opens his mouth to say something, anything, but Tung Lo cuts him off.

“No fighting it.”

His mouth clicks shut and Zuko ends up nodding.

“So.” Huzo drawls, “In light of our new friendship, if we ever get our guts mushed up, will you give us a discount on the healing?”

Zuko shakes his head, “I don't charge people.”

Tung Lo whistles, “That's no way to make a business.”

“It's not a business.”

Huzo shrugs, “Well. We'll just make sure you're protected. Little kid like you in the forest is easy pickings for bandits.”

“Yeah, we'll be your heroes!”

Zuko shrugs and can't keep himself from asking, “What are those?” He points to Huzo's wrists.

“These?” He pulls two thin wooden poles from their holster and Zuko notes one end has a blunted indent. “They're for pressure points. Got 'em from a chi blocker, easier for people new to the art to use. Hit the right place and you can stop someone from moving, bending-” He grins, “Speaking.”

Zuko remembers Tama's herbs, the ones that flowed through the body in sick benders, remembers Ty Lee's sharp punches. “Can you teach me?”

Huzo flips the rods between his fingers and smiles, “Yeah sure kid, don't know what good it'll do a healer, but I guess you gotta defend yourself somehow.”

Zuko nods before Tung Lo lunges forward, “And I'll teach you the scimitar!”

“No thanks.”

Tung Lo frowns, “Friendship revoked.”

Huzo leans over and punches Tung Lo who grumbles lowly. They both rise from the river bank and sling their arms around Mark and wave to Zuko.

“We've gotta go, but we'll see ya around, kid.”

Zuko glares at Tung Lo, he's not a kid, but chi blocking is tempting. “Only if you teach me.”

Huzo salutes and the three exit his forest.

–

Later that night Zuko pours over his herb books. Nao's Compendium holds more information than just herbs, but Zuko doesn't like the word compendium. In it there is a chapter on the flow of chi in the body and how chi differs in benders and non benders.

Zuko knows the danger of chi blocking, and feels in himself right now the risk his bending faces when his pathways are damaged.

Zuko wonders, if Huzo is wrong when he says chi blocking will do a healer no good.

It isn't like Zuko has been good at anything before anyways. So what's the harm in trying now?

He places down the book in his little triangle home and stares at his stick ceiling. The gray green color of the tarp peeks through the twigs.

Zuko thinks being in the Earth Kingdom may not be so bad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. To be honest, this is my least favorite chapter. I love Huzo and Tung Lo, and they're gonna be great, but this did not wanna pump out. I've been editing it for ages.   
> However, bright side, next two chapters are my favorites.


	4. Chapter 4

“Why are you creeping about this road.” Asks the man, pack slung behind his back, one arm hangs limply by his side. 

Zuko shrugs, “It's my road.”

“...Su-re kid.”

“It is!" Zuko shakes his head and shrugs, he's getting used to this reaction by now, "Anyways. I can heal your arm.”

The man weighs his options before nodding, “Might as well.”

–-

“Are bandits recruiting children now?”

“I'm not a bandit, why does everyone think I'm a bandit?!” Zuko shouts.

“You jumped down from a tree, onto my cart.” The woman scowls and gestures to the sky.

“Um. Uh. Your head hurts! I can help!”

“You were eavesdropping."

"Yes." Zuko nods. 

"Why should I trust you?”

“I've done this before?”

The woman purses her lips and rolls her neck. 

“Eh. What the hell, this migraine is killing me.”

–-

“That scar.”

Zuko shrinks back and closes his eyes, wishing that he had listened to the other travelers who said he should stop jumping from trees. But he didn't think anyone would know him here.

“You're the healing kid.”

Zuko blinks his eyes open and sputters, “I'm what?”

“The kid who heals the travelers of these roads.”

“I um." He smiles small and shy, "Okay? Your back doesn't look normal. Let me help.”

“Thank you.”

–-

“Don't touch that!”

Hawa fumbles with the red and gold band before neatly placing it back on the pile of sticks.

“Why not?”

“Huzo said not to mess with anything by the big willow in the forest.”

“There are a lot of big willows.”

“Yeah, big willows with knife marks in 'em?”

“Yes.” Hawa looks into the pile of sticks and wrinkles his nose at the lack of stealable items. The band is promising, but clearly fire nation influenced. Things like that aren't worth the trouble to off-load.

“Tung Lo and Huzo have claim on this site.”

“What's a bunch of mercenaries gonna do to us?” 

“It's not them I'm worried about.”

Hawa snorts, “You think I'm scared of that hag?”

“She'll find you and murder you. And just for fun she'll find me and murder me.” He crosses his arms and glares, “I am not getting murdered because of your sorry ass. And she'll make it messy. I do not deserve a messy death.

“Fine.” Hawa scuffs his feet and turns away from the clearing. “But you owe me.”

–-

Nao sighs and rests her hands against her knees, “You are not wearing your hair up, sugar glider.”

“I don't deserve to.”

Nao tilts her head. “When will you, little one?”

“I don't know.”

“Then you never will be, dove.” She huffs a little chuckle and begins to rummage within the folds of her robes. “Here is a book on Water Tribe healing. You will not encounter many of the flora or fauna required for their recipes, however I am sure you will find it interesting.”

Zuko takes the gift and nods his head.

“Winter will be coming soon, dragonfly. The Winter Solstice is a momentous event, and I provide well for those who are mine, is there anything that you would want?”

He closes his eyes and shakes his head.

“Very well. I will be back by the Winter Solstice and bring a gift of my own discretion. Two trips this season, just for you, little one.”

“Thank you.”

“I have a good sense of character small one. I believe in you. And from what I have learned, so do others.” 

Zuko doesn't doubt in Nao's instincts, but he has always been the exception.

–-

“Li?”

“I, uh, yeah. How'd you know?”

“You're the healer of the forest.”

“What?”

“I'm sorry, was I mistaken?”

“I. No. I.” Zuko takes a deep breath and gives an awkward smile, “How can I help you?”

–-

Huzo is a surprisingly good teacher when he sits down and applies himself. He kneels besides Zuko and gestures to his own neck while Zuko handles the chi rods with little confidence.

“Lower, just behind the angle of the jaw.”

“What does this one do?” Zuko asks while gently poking the spot. 

Tung Lo smiles and twirls his sword. Dust swirls around him. “Pain. It causes pain." He shivers in place before finishing out a vertical sweep, "Huzo is a bully and used to practice on me.”

Zuko looks down at his hand, rolls the wooden pole along his fingers, “Who do I practice on?”

Huzo's face lights up as he and Zuko stare at Tung Lo.

“Oma and Shu, help me.”

–-

“Winter's comin fast, brat.”

“I'm not a brat.” Zuko grumbles half-heartedly. 

“Yeh, yeh.” Ku leans against Orchid's side and she gives a shrill protest, “Yeh got some 'ere to stay?”

“Yes.”

“The forest?”

“No....”

“Got a tent?”

“Yes....?”

Ku slaps his own face and breathes out an aggrieved huff.

“I'll git my hammer.” Ku sighs and swats Zuko's hands away from Orchid's reigns. “Ye got any friends te help? I ain't no carpenter.”

“Uh.”

–-

“You want us to help this cranky old guy do what?” Tung Lo asks, gesturing to Ku with the pointy part of his sword. 

“Help make a winter house for me?”

Ku jabs the end of his mallet at Tung Lo and shakes it back and forth. “Hut, brat. I ain't makin' nothin' bigger than a hut.”

Huzo looks to Tung Lo and shrugs, “Okay!”

–-

It takes two days longer than necessary, and Ku is hoarse with anger. But Zuko has never been happier.

The hut has four walls and a roof. There are no windows, but there is a small door that opens and shuts without creaking. All of Zuko's possessions fit neatly in the far left corner and a small mound of blankets fit in the right. Ku gives Zuko a rusted lantern to place in the center of the room, and shadows flicker on the bare walls.

Huzo hands Zuko the clasp Nao gave him and tugs at a strand of Zuko's hair, past shoulder length now.

“You wear your hair up?”

Zuko shakes his head, “No.”

“Doesn't it get in your way?”

“Yeah.”

Huzo purses his lips and says very slowly, “Then. Why don't you wear it up?”

Zuko holds the band and turns it around in his hand. “It's not that easy.”

Tung Lo leans against the doorway, his shoulders touch each side. “Uh. Yeah it is, you take a leather band, wrap it around your hair, and make a knot.” He points to his own hair in demonstration.

“Yeah.” Zuko doesn't move his hands. “I know.”

Huzo squints at Zuko from behind Tung Lo while Ku fiddles with the outside of the hut. “Yeah?”

“It's. Complicated.”

Huzo smiles in a way that shows he doesn't understand a thing that Zuko is saying, “It always is buddy.”

\--

Huzo and Tung Lo leave quickly, there is a bounty by the nunnery in the West that they need to go after. They wave and promise to bring Zuko decorations to make his new home feel more homey.

Ku lingers, and fiddles with the tarp that he had gifted two months ago. 

“Yeh alrigh', brat?”

“I. I don't know.” Zuko sits outside his hut, staring at the door. He still clutches the hair clasp. He can almost imagine a flame on the front.

“Ye?”

“I. I'm not going home.” Zuko remembers the palace, he was training to be the next Fire Lord. He was the crown prince with a penchant for healing. "I-. I don't know what to do." There is no goal. What does he train for anymore. Why does he even do his katas? Practice his sword? Heal?

“Yeh and the res' of us, brat.”

“What?”

“Yeh think any of us know wha' we're doin?” Ku puts the tarp against the side of the hut, trundles over, and glares down at Zuko.

“I used to.” At least he thinks so. Zuko had tried so hard at the palace to be a good prince. 

“Thins change, life sucks.” 

“I.” Zuko holds up the band, “Nao looks like she knows what she's doing.”

Ku opens his mouth then shuts it before dourly grumbling, “She migh be the exception. Though dun go tellin 'er I said that.” He mumbles lowly, "None of it good 'nyway."

Zuko nods halfheartedly.

“So. What do I do?”

“Whatev'r yeh want.”

“Is being a fisherman what you want to do?”

Ku scowls, “Dun question me, brat.”

Zuko pouts mutinously and Ku rolls his eyes. His kids weren't nearly so needy when they were this boys age. They fished or wed and kept their feet and heads to the ground. He rubs his hand against his jaw and goes for it. 

“Yer a healer.”

“So?”

“Seems like a pretty good thing ta do.” Ku flops onto the ground and begins to stretch. His old bones aren't what they used to be.

“But why?”

“Oma and Shu bless me if I know. That's the poin', brat. Yeh do what makes yeh happy an hope it works out. An if ya can't, yeh make do until yeh can.”

“But how do I know?”

"How do you know what?"

"If I'm happy?!" Zuko shouts. And for the first time in a long time he can feel heat build in his chest. It feels hot and burns in his throat, scratches its way up to his mouth and his eyes blur. 

"What kind o' question is that? Yeh ain't never bin happy b'fore?"

"I-" He feels his hands shake, and can barely hear Ku's words, but the answer is yes, right? He can see faces that bring a comforting warmth to him, although none of which are here now.

Zuko takes deep breathes and feels the fire slowly fade away. He feels disappointed in how relieved he feels as it is smothered. "I have." He meets Ku's eyes, who are crinkled with thought, "But, how do I know if I'm in the right place now?"

“Yeh dun!" Ku shouts, he's done with this, kids are more trouble than they're worth. And he's already done his dues as Father and Grandfather. "Now shut up, brat, accept that life ain't easy, it dun give yeh answers when yeh ask. All yeh do is live, there ain't no point besides that.” He pulls himself off the ground and shoves the tarp in Zuko's direction. "An I sure dun have answers fer ya either."

Zuko closes his hands on the clasp. “Alright.”

“Alrigh'?” Ku goes back and picks up his hammer. “Wha' brought this on, brat?”

Zuko looks up and smiles. Ku can see nothing but a twisted grimace. He's not sure if its due to the scar this time. “It's my birthday.”

“Huh.” Ku scratches his chin with the hammer, “Yer too young to worry abou' a thin' like tha'." He puts a hand on Zuko's shoulder regardless, "Brat.”

–-

“I am displeased that you did not make me aware of your birth date.” Nao taps her fan on the side of Zuko's hut. She had whisked in with the morning fog, right on time at the dawn of the solstice. She kneels outside the door, red robe splayed around her.

Zuko pokes his head out of his bundle of blankets deliriously. What is Nao doing here so early. How did she find his willow tree, she doesn't seem the type to wander through forests.

And Agni curse Ku, he ratted him out!

“Sorry?”

She inclines her head, “Apology accepted, koi fish.” Nao thankfully ignores Zuko quickly throwing on thicker clothes and reaches into her pockets, “Here, I suppose it is both a birthday present, as well as a Winter Solstice gift.” She hands him a scroll.

Zuko holds it reverently. 

“ _Love Amongst the Dragons_?” His fingers trace over small drawings of a man and woman in a courtyard. 

“Yes, was I incorrect in the assumption that you would appreciate fine literature?”

“No.” Zuko opens the scroll and breathes. “Thank you. How did you know?”

Nao smiles, “I have my ways, Dragonfly.” She stands and begins to walk from his clearing. He doesn't seem in the mood to converse with her today. 

Zuko further unfurls the scroll and forgets to see her to the road. He hasn't read this since Mother left. Hasn't seen the play since long before she left, when Azula and he played instead of fought.

\--

The next time he spots Huzo and Tung Lo, he asks them to help him build a shelf on the back wall of his hut.

He has three books (all on healing) and one theater scroll.

He cleans the shelf like an altar.

\--

It storms that Winter. The rain pelts against Zuko's hut, but inside it stays warm.

He sits, back against the wall of the hut and breathes. Shadows flicker on the walls and blankets. The fire in the lantern swells and sighs with his breath, although Zuko hardly notices.

His hands cradle a scroll and he remembers his mother's voice, soft, sweet, and unmercifully distant:

“That's who you are, Zuko, someone who keeps fighting even though it's hard.”

His hands pulse green now and again.

He can feel his fire bloom in his chest. It feels like a friend now, and distantly, Zuko wonders why his fire can feel like family at times, and foe at other. 

But, his fire doesn't matter too much now, Zuko supposes. The Earth Kingdom is his home now, there's no going back, no one is coming to get him.

He thinks, that maybe, he can be alright with that. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Longer chapter (I think)! With, yay, *angst*


	5. Chapter 5

Zuko has been gone from the palace nearly two seasons. Not long ago it was Zuko's birthday, and not a soul whispered a thing about it. No incense, no parties, no presents that were always better than hers.

Azula thinks it's for the best.

“Fetch me water for my bath.” She waves an idle hand at a nearby servant. “Make it hot.”

It is early morning and Azula had awakened with the sun as all good fire benders did. Today is the first war council Azula is allowed to attend.

She has condensed thirteen years of crown heir lessons into less than one.

She didn't have to beg a doddering Uncle to let her into the meeting, she was invited.

And as Azula walks through the hallways to her chambers, covered in a thin sheen of sweat after her morning katas, the guards and soldiers, and _generals_ bow as she passes. Just as they do to Father as he strides through the halls.

As they should.

Azula is perfection. Blue flame ignites at her fingertips, her strategies are flawless, her political machinations ruthless. She is her father's daughter.

~~She is his only family left.~~

The only mar on her record will be that she won't have graduated from the Royal Fire Academy for Girls. A school, royal and elite or not, is not befitting of the Fire Lord's heiress. Private tutors from around the world are enlisted to teach her and only her.

It's really for the best. It isn't like she was learning anything of worth in those classrooms of sniveling pawns. They'll serve her one day, better for them not to have any memories of her in the awkward stage of youth. The only things of worth there were Mai and Ty Lee.

Not that she needs them.

Azula waves away the servants at her door and heads towards the large bath that is adjoined to her room.

She throws her training clothes in a basket in the corner and sinks into the bathtub.

The water is tepid.

Incompetent imbeciles. 

She'll have to find out which servant was slacking and show them what real hot water is. Her brilliant mind recalls the servant's face. The angle of his bow. The fear in his eyes. She remembers every slight, every person to fail her, ~~to leave~~ , and she will get her revenge.

However, now is not the time.

Azula inhales and plunges her hands in the water and watches it roil and steam rise into the air.

Much better.

Azula undoes her hair and lets it fall behind her. It's getting long now, and it takes more soap and oils to coat each silky lock. Faintly, Azula remembers her mother combing out her hair, how her long fingers twisted each piece into a perfect top knot. How father used to smile at that perfection.

She takes a short bath, punctuality is imperative. Her father would be displeased with anything else.

Azula chooses a dull red tunic and pants, and straps her armor into place, polished the other night by a servant and double, triple checked by Azula thereafter.

She does her hair up quickly, fastens it in place with one of her many hair decorations.

With a deft hand, she applies a light layer of lipstick (the kind her mother had), and takes stock of her appearance.

Competence. Perfection. A prodigy.

She turns on her heel and exits the room. She will eat a light breakfast, enough to quiet her stomach, but not enough to sate. Azula needs to be hungry: predatory.

Azula needs to be what she sees in the mirror.

Her father loves perfection.

Now that Zuko is gone, there isn't anything else left for Azula to be.

~~Who knows what father will do if she fails.~~

She enters the kitchen with shoulders drawn back and head held high.

Today is just another day for the Fire Nation's Princess.

–

“Would you get water from the well for dinner tonight, Kiki?”

Kiki finishes tucking the incense and frame into her trunk and turns her head to call back, “Of course, Mom. One moment!” She drops the lid back into place and goes to the kitchen.

Her mother stretches her arm to reach the spices from the back cabinet and Kiki smiles. “Let me get that for you.”

“I'm no invalid, Kiki.” Her mother grumbles, but accepts the fire spice easily enough.

“I know.” Kiki grabs the buckets by the door, “What's for dinner?”

“Stew.”

“Oh, sounds good.” It's been stormy lately, lightning and thunder become more frequent as Winter draws on.

“It better, you won't be eating anything else.”

Kiki laughs, “I know, mom. I'll be right back.”

She takes the old road down to the well and takes her time drawing up the water. Her arms still aren't used to it. When she first got home in a flurry of tears and anger, her mother had drawn her close, before deciding chores would keep her too occupied to be sad.

It had torn up her fingers, used to porcelain and silk, but it had also done the trick.

It is good to be back, the money had helped keep the doctor at her mother's house, but Kiki now wonders who helped her do these little things. Knows her mother and knows that she probably tried to do them by herself, Agni damn what the doctor said.

And it feels good to Kiki too.

Being at the palace, serving Prince Zuko, she had gotten so used to being useful. She has a purpose here, to help her mother. It fills the quiet void.

Luckily, money isn't an issue either, as Kiki had initially feared.

Even after being fired, Tama had made a name for himself.

He had the foresight to leave the palace quietly as Ozai had surely wished, and thus kept much of his reputation. There is a difference between 'healer who is tired of the palace' and 'banished healer'.

Tama had found a cushy job serving the lower nobles just on the edge of Caldera, who wish ever so much to be anything like those in the palace.

Kiki is glad for it. She can't imagine the old man roughing it in her village, although she had offered.

He scoffed and imperiously denied.

But he had smiled when he waved her goodbye at the walls of Caldera.

He sends money every month.

She hears, from the others who had fled that horrible night, that he sends aide to them too. Though, Kiki is sure, the old man would deny it if asked.

Kiki hooks the handles of the buckets to a long stick and hefts them onto her shoulders. They're heavy, and it's more water than her mom needs, but it'll save her another trip when she inevitably asks for tea this evening.

“It's the best thing you brought home from the palace.” Her mother says, cradling a warm cup of jasmine.

“Mom?”

She huffs, which turns into a cough, but she waves off Kiki's fluttering hands. “Never wanted you to go to the palace. Nothing good ever came from there.”

“Except my tea making skills.” Kiki drawls as she pours another cup. She wishes she had some sugar, but they can't afford those luxuries.

“'Cept that.”

Kiki smiles and pours herself a cup. “I don't know, mom.” She takes a sip and knows that a certain prince would have made a poorly concealed face of disgust at the taste. Even though it is perfectly made tea too. “I think there was another thing that was good.”

“Hah.” Her mother slams her teacup down. “Are you talking about that princeling again?”

“Mom.”

“Don't take that tone with me, I gave birth to you.”

Kiki resists the urge to roll her eyes. “He was- is a good kid.”

Her mother takes a sip, keeping eye contact with Kiki the whole time. “Yeah?”

“Yes, mother.”

“Don't call me that, you sound like one of those palace folks.”

“I was.”

“Don't remind me.” She takes a shuddering breath. “None of them hurt you?”

“Prince Zuko would never.” She pours her mom another cup. Thinks that she might be able to purchase some honey next Spring if she spends Tama's gifts right.

“Doesn't sound like much of a royal.”

Kiki smiles, wonders if her friends, _allies_ from the palace have had similar conversations. “He is what a royal should be.”

Her mother finishes her second cup before saying anything. She looks past the tea they're drinking from and sees red , fine porcelain, only crafted by talented and controlled fire benders. Knows her daughter is too smart to take anything fancy like this for no reason.

She makes a note that at the next tax collection, she's got a few more things to hide.

“Tell me about him.”

–

Iroh has gone by many names in his life and he knows that names hold power.

He has been the Dragon of the West, and even after much remuneration and quiet conversations over Pai Sho, there are still those that will always know him as his past self, and never see who he is now.

Once, he was also the Crown Prince. And Iroh thinks it is funny that people have forgotten that title so quickly.

A short time ago, which feels like a long time ago, he was also called father. Iroh thinks that losing this name is the only thing that allowed him to be folded into the White Lotus. Too many people nowadays know that grief changes a man, often for the better of the world.

Iroh also knows that he would trade away _everything_ to get that title back.

He is also known as Uncle. Though only one child will call him that anymore. And even if she does, it usually has a rude adjective before it. Often: kooky.

He supposes, the only name that he is called much anymore is old man or perhaps more importantly the Grand Lotus.

Iroh wonders, as he ponders all the names he has been called before, if it all has been worth it.

His power in the capital is waning. Fewer servants let information slip to him, and the guards' bows were more perfunctory than ever. His brother, although he doubts Ozai thinks of him as such anymore, would rather Iroh die before letting him into the war councils.

And the other generals are happy with that, it seems.

His influence wanes in the Fire Nation.

Though it blooms elsewhere.

After his Nephew's loss Iroh was swarmed with memories and feelings he had sworn to never experience again.

And the White Lotus noticed.

They urged him to travel again, obscure missions, partnered and solo, anything minutely important to keep his hands and mind busy. He has a duty to lead, to liberate. Although they hold no sense of loss over the recently departed Prince, they know it holds weight with their leader. And they cannot have the head of a rebellion distracted.

Iroh had survived mourning once, and though his body and spirit is strong, the second blow is no less painful. So it takes very little prompting from his fellow members to leave the palace.

He travels across the world, making fewer and fewer stops in the Fire Nation. He sees the Unagi of Kiyoshi Island, admires the fans they make. Has a lovely conversation with one of the historians on the peculiarities of an earth bender's preferred weapon being a fan, and drinks tea, new tea. It begins the feeling of cleansing.

He visits the Northern Water Tribe. They don't trust him, but Pakku vouches for him and he is allowed in the outskirts of the city, never close to the palace where a white haired girl, just about the age that Zuko would have been, graces the halls. He shows the warriors his fire bending and meditates to the slow push and pull of La under Tui's light.

Iroh finds the edges of the Southern Water Tribe, though none of the people let him close. But he watches the ships navigate the ice flows and laughs his first laugh with the crew of his dilapidated ship at the sight of the otter penguins.

He wanders the empty halls of the air temples. Iroh can feel the spirits pushing at his back and doesn't stay long. He says a prayer at the entrance to each temple, and makes sure he looks at each skull he passes, makes sure he acknowledges the small ones the most.

Iroh plays Pai Sho on the deck of the ship he names the Dragon and trounces his crew so badly he knows they only keep playing with him either out of fear or affection. He sings at night with the drunken sailors and plays the Tsungi horn with muted sorrow.

He passes knowledge for the White Lotus and develops a network in the hopes of saving a world that he has spent too many of his years destroying.

In between it all, he talks to Captain, Jee about his travels after the siege of Ba Sing Se. And the man must hear what isn't said, hears the significance of the date, and Iroh wonders if there is a child the man wants to protect too. Wonders if he failed as Iroh once, now twice has.

Iroh looks out into La's depths as they crisscross the world creating a burgeoning revolution and wonders what he's fighting for anymore.

His crew wonders how they keep losing against him, when his first move in any Pai Sho game is the white lotus tile.

Iroh wonders if he is serving under another banner that will take his children away.

Not that he has any left.

One night, the crew talks about their families and Iroh respectfully bows and retires from the conversation. He is the reason they are away from their families right now. Although, if it weren't him, it would be due to his brother, and that trip would be no safer.

He likes to think himself the lesser of two evils.

But before the metal door of the Dragon closes behind him he hears how Captain Jee has no children, no wife either. But has a brother with a daughter who hates dolls.

Iroh sleeps in a small room in the hull of the Dragon, because he isn't the Captain, just a passenger of the ship. He holds a teapot in his hands and heats the water to the perfect just below boiling temperature for the leaves.

Sometimes, Iroh wonders what it would be like, to have been born a peasant, or a lesser noble. To have the freedom of irresponsibility. Thinks that he'd open a little tea shop, and die in blessed obscurity. All the while watching his children, and his children's children grow old.

That night, Iroh writes the first of several letters to his niece Azula.

He doesn't hear a response to a single one. Although he realizes now, he doesn't know his niece very well, and that she probably burnt them.

She takes after his brother.

It is why Iroh favored Zuko, so like Lu Ten.

Maybe that's why, though, she is still alive.

He continues to write with a cup of OoLong tea beside him, and the scent permeates the paper.

It is after Winter breaks and thunder storms that roll across the Fire Nation slips into a gentle spring that she writes back. She writes in clipped sentences, and threatens him to stop writing her.

_Father will notice._

He adds this to the list of his mistakes. That he condemned a child, of his own blood, to stand in the shadow of his brother.

Iroh drinks his tea and plays Pai Sho, white lotus tile first. But he becomes both Iroh: Grand Lotus, and hopefully Uncle, insulting adjectives included or not. He won't fail this last child.

If he does...

He won't. He wasn't called the Dragon of the West for nothing. And he promises, he will become what he hates, to protect his niece: Azula.

\--

Captain Jee watches General Iroh, although he protests whenever he calls him such, exit to his quarters. Private Yuan continues to sing the praises of the food at the last port, and swears to bring home the dried Azuki beans to his wife.

Tomorrow, the messenger hawks will arrive.

Hawk master Pon will distribute all of the letters except for those designated for the General.

It is only as of the last week that this is of concern to Jee.

He noticed the messenger hawks, royal insignia on their chests leaving their ex-war ship and found it a nuisance, but little else. It is hard to sail undisturbed when the Fire Nation's royal insignia continues to leave a decrepit ship, but the General had insisted.

The last flight of hawks changed things.

Jee notices the royal flames on the returning hawk, sees its burden of a returning letter.

The general and Fire Lord Ozai are communicating for the first time.

Jee remembers the last Spring before he left on the horribly, cruelly, and ironically named _Dragon_. Jee had felt blood trickle between his fingers as he left a child to fend for himself in enemy territory.

He remembers seeing the ruler of his nation light his son on fire and charge Jee to leave him on Earth kingdom shores to die.

Jee can feel the heat in the air as Lord Ozai threatened him to silence.

It is that night, around the fire, that he re-swears the crew from telling Iroh the truth about Prince Zuko.

Some are drunk on warm sake, cheeks red from the ocean wind. But they all swear solemnly.

There is a reason that he trusts his crew with his life.

Most people don't realize, but Jee is not called Captain because he is in charge of his ship. No, while that is true, Jee became Captain after a battle outside Ba Sing Se.

And Captain Jee won't let any more of his people die young.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Other POVs! I really liked this.


End file.
